


Rick Sanchez NSFW Prompts

by pecanroll69



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pecanroll69/pseuds/pecanroll69
Summary: I have neglected on uploading all of these lil fics I did so! putting em here





	1. You meet Rick at a bar

**Author's Note:**

> uploading all these prompts i did on tumblr finally! several of these were written while drunk and i don't know that i ever feel like revising them so. take that how you will

“Something on your mind?”

You were taking a chance. The man before you was old with wild blue hair and a heavily stained lab coat. He had been sitting out in the smoking area behind the bar, but refused to speak to anyone. The atmosphere was jovial: Everyone laughing, drinking, sharing smokes and sharing stories. Except him.

He sat, he watched, but he never participated. His dire countenance stood in contrast with everyone else’s alcohol-inspired friendliness. And that, against all laws of attraction, drew you to him.

“You don’t look like you’re having a great time here. If there’s anything I can do…”

You said it with a coy smile. His dark eyes looked you up and down shamelessly and he gave a little grunt, scooting over to let you sit anyway. You took this as a sign that he was at least okay with your company. But you wanted him to want you.

The two of you sat there in silence for a bit, you sipping on your drink and he downing a flask full of some mystery alcohol. You gestured to the flask. “What’s in there? Comin’ to a bar to drink out of a flask and not actually speak to anyone seems counterintuitive.”  
“W-wouldn’t you like to know, huh?” He snapped. His voice was gravelly and mean like the rest of him and it made you shiver. You briefly relished the thought of hearing both praise and insults from that voice, even though you expected more of the latter.

Despite his reaction, he does let you know what’s in the flask, but the explanation doesn’t mean anything to you. He mumbled some made-up words and said something about aliens and you had to wonder if this guy was fucking with you or if you were a little more tipsy than you feel. The third option, that he was being completely genuine, occurs to you when he finally looked at you again and very bluntly declared, “And bars? I-I-I don’t wanna pay for those fucking— your little overpriced drinks and get buddy-buddy with strangers. I come here so curious little, f-fucking whores like you will hit on me and I-I can get some ass.”

You were red and speechless by the end of his explanation, unsure of if you want to slap him or sit on his dick right then and there. He grinned for the first time, clearly enjoying your shock and confusion. What a fucking sadist. You loved it, and he was well aware. You leaned into his ear to whisper, “I guess you’re not a mysterious and intriguing man sitting coldly in a corner. Just a mean lecher.” He smirked at this and put his large hand on your back, stroking it gently, teasingly. You wanted more of his touch but he knew just how much to withhold to make you want him even more. You were embarrassed that you were already wet.

He lowered his voice and spread his long legs a little so that his leg was against yours.  
“Yeah? Y-you got me, kid. I just wanna fuck sweet little things like you. I-I wanna do some real, real dirty shit to you. I bet your cunt’s already dripping for me, isn’t it?”

He flustered you and you squirmed, clearly proving his point. His teasing hand finally grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, a gesture so rough and sudden you accidentally moaned a little in response. He laughed.

“Holy shit honey. I-I knew you were into me but, but this? God, you– y-you want me right here, don’t you?”

You nodded shamefully. His licentious grin widened and he snaked a hand under your skirt while taking another gulp from his flask. His long fingers rubbed against your damp panties, which earned him a little gasp from you. You could see his cock straining in his pants. The vulgarity of him fingering you in public, of his clear arousal, and his nonchalant manner despite this circumstances only made you more aroused.

You held back moans as he continued teasing you, rubbing your clit through the fabric and then slipping his hands into your panties briefly to feel you, but never giving you the touch you desired. You shot him a needy glance and he leaned over to you, mirroring your words from earlier.

“If there’s anything I can do…”

You held back a moan. “I-I… please, touch my pussy. Make me cum, please, sir.”

His cock twitched in his pants at the title. He savored your desperate request for a moment before moving aside the fabric of your underwear and fingering you with such fervor that you almost came right away.

“Damn, I-I just love sluts like you who, who just want my dirty old man hands up their skirts in public. You don’t even know my name but y-you’re a fuckin’ mess for me baby. If this is you in public, I wanna see— wanna get a look at what you’re like in private.”

You were helpless against his degrading tirade, against his fingers pushing in and out of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. But he still wouldn’t let you cum. You gave him another pleading look before burying your face in his neck. “Please…”

“Do it— cum for me.”

You did, and hard. You rode his hand through your climax, hoping no one saw any of this. You suppressed your moans by biting his neck, undoubtedly leaving him hickeys for the next day. Maybe he would call you for a round two. You doubted it. You stopped biting his neck and leaned your head on his shoulder as you came down, noting that the front of his pants were stained with pre-cum from his still hard cock.

“Can I….” you whispered, looking down at his cock. He wordlessly grabbed something out of his lab coat and opened a portal with a noise and a glowing light that stopped all the talking in the area. “I’m going to fuck that drenched pussy s-so fucking hard,” he declared so everyone could hear before grabbing your wrist and taking you into the portal with him.


	2. Playing pool in a bar with Rick(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you can tell i'm really into exhibitionism at this point huh

“Behave; I-I can’t have all these other lechers getting their hands on you, under-euagh-stand?”

Rick scowled at the other Ricks passing by, many of them making no attempt to hide their interest in you. You nodded, although he saw how red you were getting from all the attention. Trips to the Citadel generally went like this. Accordingly, your Rick had never left you alone on the Citadel. Maybe he cared about your fear of being alone in crowds more than he let on, or maybe he was just jealous. You couldn’t tell, and he would certainly never tell you. “Don’t think about it,” he would say while taking a swig from his flask.

Rick looked at your helpless face for a minute before rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. “F-fine. I’ll bring you along. B-b-but don’t complain when those fuckers mess with you.”

He pulled you along through the sea of Ricks, a sea of wolf whistles and “hey baby” and “you ever had two Ricks?”   
You wouldn’t accept this kind of behavior normally, but it’s all coming from someone you fuck on the regular. You’re indignant and embarrassed and aroused all at once.

The two of you arrived at a hole-in-the-wall bar with a tacky but charming neon sign that read “Rick’s.” Straightforward. You walked in and the smell of booze and cigarettes filled your nostrils, your ears full of the sound of gravelly laughter. Your Rick led you over to a pool table, placing a cue in your hand and a hand on your shoulder. “L-listen, I brought you here with me but I, uh, can’t really do business with you here. Strict rules, gotta meet the other Ricks by myself.” He moved his hand on your shoulder up to your neck, caressing it as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Remember; behave.”

Rick gave your ass a little slap and looked back with a grin as he walked away. He walked through a doorway that probably led to a room with men smoking and making shady business deals over a game of cards. You blushed, feeling all the eyes that turned to you at the sound of a smack, those dark and hungry eyes that were eager to take your absent Rick’s place. One such Rick who had been standing silently at the pool table chuckled. You looked up at him and smiled, not sure how to interact with other Ricks but excited to do so. He looked like he had just gotten off of a shift at some white collar job. He wore a button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his shirt a little unbuttoned and his tie loose. His hair was not as long and wild as most Ricks’, but still had that delectable disheveled look to it. He wore an expensive looking watch that drew attention to his hands. Whether it was an aesthetic choice or some hidden weapon, you didn’t know or care.

“You’re a pretty little thing, I-I can see why your Rick doesn’t want you getting lost or anything.”

He moved around you as he set up the game of pool, purposely brushing up against you. A clever predator stalking its all too willing prey. You nervously rubbed the cue with that chalky stuff in a futile attempt to appear like you knew what you were doing. People playing pool was sexy to you, and you wanted to be good at it, but you just weren’t. You watched as he did the same thing, then removed the triangle that held all the balls in place. The way he leaned over, his elegant arms and hands working beautifully as he initiated the game, excited you.

“I, um, I’m not very good at this. I forget the rules sometimes, and my aim is shit,” you confessed. You were sitting on the edge of the pool table, avoiding eye contact. He chuckled, still silent, walking over to you to take his first shot. “Can I maybe watch you play first?” You said this as he pocketed his first ball. He stood back up to his full height and looked down at you, calculating. He put his hand on your jaw and turned your face, as if appraising you. “You tryin’ to— y-you gonna hustle me or something, kid?”

You blushed in surprise. “I— no, not at all! I’m just genuinely really bad at this. But I would love to watch you play. It’s a good look for you.” You didn’t think hitting on other Ricks was what your Rick meant by “behave,” but the two of you weren’t exclusive anyway. No harm in a little flirting.

The Rick before you smirked at your clumsy attempt at flirtation but obliged anyway. He put his hands down on the pool table on either side of you and whispered just as your Rick had. “Sure, honey. Tell you what. Y-you gotta make a deal with me.”

Your heart rate quickened as he traced circles on your thigh with his index finger. “I get to touch that sweet body of yours every time I pocket a ball.” You licked your lips and, a little too eagerly, agreed. “Mmmm, you’re nice and obedient, huh?” You were beyond flustered at this point, so you didn’t respond but got down from the pool table and watched him play instead. He didn’t make every shot as perfectly as that first one; but he used that as an opportunity to tease you. He would move past you by grabbing your hips to guide you where he wanted you, or squeeze behind you so you could feel his hard cock through his pants. You were blushing and wet and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

He pocketed his second ball and walked over to you to kiss and bite your neck while he grabbed your tits. You moaned a little, drawing attention from some of the other patrons of the bar. You were really enjoying the attention, much to your chagrin. You leaned over the pool table as Rick continued to play, wiggling your ass a little for all the Ricks watching. With the next pocketed ball, Rick came over to you. "Oh, so you’re an exhibitionist, huh? A-a sexy fuckin’ attention whore?” You bit your lip and nodded as he groped your ass, pulling you towards him so you could once again feel his erection. “W-well, it’s working sweetie. You’ve got all those old men hard for you.” The dirty talk was too much and you moaned, eliciting a laugh from him. He let go of you and resumed playing pool, though you could still see a few Rick’s watching you.

You sat back down on the pool table and hiked up your skirt to flash your panties at them. You were met with smirks and grunts of appreciation. This encouraged you to start touching yourself through your panties, squeezing your tits together with your arms as you did so. If they wanted a show, you had no trouble giving one. Some Ricks started palming their cocks through their pants, mirroring your actions. You didn’t even notice the pool playing Rick had once again pocketed a ball until he sauntered over to you and smacked your thigh, eliciting a yelp as he pulled your fingers from your panties. He kneeled down and began stroking you through the fabric. “Goddamn you are wet!” He pushed the fabric to the side and began finger fucking you, turning his head around to praise and degrade you to the other Ricks.

“A-are you all seeing this? Their cunt is practically dripping. I-I just wanna eat you up, babe.” Other Ricks voiced their agreement. “F-feel free,” you uttered through moans. Rick’s eyes brightened. He licked from where his finger was still fucking you up to your clit, slow and delicious. You were so close from playing with yourself and all the attention you were getting, and you wished he would just hurry it up. After a few long, slow, tension building licks, he started giving your clit the attention it deserved with fast and short strokes of his tongue. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum, Rick.”

From across the room, you heard a low, commanding, “Don’t you dare.” You looked over to see your Rick; behind him stood the Ricks he must have been doing business with, amused looks on their faces. “Don’t you dare cum, you slut,” he repeated. You looked him in the eyes and bit your lip, trying to follow his instructions but too aroused by him telling you not to cum. You squeezed your thighs around Rick’s head as you came, shaking and letting out loud, breathy moans for the rest of the Ricks to hear. Your Rick worked his jaw in frustration as he watched you come undone in the middle of a bar full of Ricks.

The Rick below you stood up triumphantly, grinning at your Rick as he licked your arousal off of his lips. “That one’s a keeper. Tastes real good, moans real sweet.”

“I-I know, asshole.” He was fuming, but his boner showed through his pants as he dragged you out of the bar. He ranted at you before opening a portal to go home, other Ricks snickering knowingly at your disheveled appearance and your angry Rick.

“Y-you’re in big trouble. Now they’re gonna be wanting me to share you, s-since you’re one of the few single versions of you. W-what the fuck am I supposed to— I-I’m just gonna have to, I need to fuck some sense into you. Should’ve known a brat like you can’t behave.”


	3. Bratty reader won't let Rick have his wafer cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick being rough and aggressive with a very naughty reader! Degradation, choking, slapping, a facial, the whole shebang

Rick was a man fully aware of his own talents. He often boasted about being the smartest man in any universe. He had no qualms reminding others of his godlike powers. As far as he was concerned, his word was law.

Naturally, when you disobeyed him, you felt a rush of adrenaline. You loved to watch him clench and unclench his fists, or work his jaw. It was especially fun in moments when he tried to maintain a semblance of calmness and control, as if he didn’t mind your insubordination. But that never lasted long.

Rick was being extra distant. You hung around him in the garage, the summer heat already melting the popsicle you were sucking on. You were bored as hell. It was your only day off, all your other friends were busy, and you’d hoped Rick would show you some cool science shit or at least give you a good fuck. Instead, he wasn’t giving you the time of day, the bastard.

“Riiiick.” He only grunted. “C'mon. Are you seriously so busy you don’t wanna take a hot young thing on any adventures? You have no problem portalling into my room while I’m trying to sleep, or showing up at work to pester me.”

He turned around and shot a glare in your direction before returning to his work. “Listen  _honey,”_ the word was full of venom, “I have some extremely important work to do. Someone like– someone as dumb as you wouldn’t understand, b-b-but you better let me work on this, undisturbed.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him as you walked out of the garage and into the Smith household. “Fine, have fun,” you called behind you. You could imagine he put his middle finger up at you in response.

You wandered into the kitchen to throw away the popsicle stick, enjoying the way the cool air felt on your warm skin. You sat on the counter for a minute to take advantage of the AC before walking back across the street to your own place. You were surprised to see Rick walk in to the kitchen, an emotion he shared as he raised half of his unibrow at you. “W-w-what are you doing wasting time in my kitchen? And move out of the way, u-unless you want me to hit your head when I open the cabinet.”

You smirked. “How gracious of you to warn me. You’re getting soft, Sanchez.” He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on the handle of the cabinet door. “I-I’m quite capable of being hard, thank you. And seriously. I’m not afraid to whack you in the fucking head.”

You reached up and grabbed his wrist. “I’m not moving,” you said, your voice low and unyielding. He snarled at his, breaking your grip and grabbing your wrist instead. As tall as he was when he stood in front of you, he was even more imposing leaning over you like this. “Y-y-you must be reeeeal bored, you fuckin’ brat. I’m not going to give you attention for being such a nuisance.”

You struggled against his grip on your wrist, which only made his fingers tighten around you. You used your other hand to try to free your wrist, but he only grabbed that one too. “Holy  _shit_ , you’re desperate!” You narrowed your eyes at him and curled your lips into a sneer. You were going to continue to be petty out of spite; you always obliged when he came to you for amusement at inopportune times, and today he was going to repay the favor.

You could tell he was getting fed up. His eyes bore into you and he tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. He was weighing whether he should push you out of the way, or if that would be giving you what you wanted. Instead he settled on verbally degrading you. “You’re such a fucking slut. You’ll do anything for attention, huh? Even if it’s just me pushing, k-knocking your dumb ass off this counter to get my wafer cookies.”

You smiled, unflinching. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch to observe the bulge you knew would be there. You met his eyes again and raised your brows as if to say,  _Yes? And wouldn’t you like that?_ Rick let out a frustrated groan, knowing that no matter what he did he would be giving you what he wanted. So he played along, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter and putting a leg between your thighs, a promise of much-needed friction. “O-okay, baby. If I let you grind on me, make you feel good for a bit, will you just let me fucking eat those water cookies.”

You laughed and pushed him out of the way. “Sorry, Rick. The offer was too low, I can’t accept it.” You swiftly hopped off the counter, opened the cabinet, and grabbed the package of water cookies. Rick’s jaw hung open in surprise. He was so pissed and shocked, he didn’t have the reaction time to stop you from biting into one of the cookies. “Mmm,” you moaned, making a show of it. “These are soooo good, Rick. You should try one.” You grinned.  _Your move, Sanchez._

He snatched the box of wafer cookies from your hand and, to your surprise, slammed them down on the counter. “God you’re, y-you’re such a fucking bitch, you’re in trouble now.” He picked you up and sat you on the counter, holding your wrists above your head with one hand and digging his fingernails into your hips with the other hand. The contact felt good. “Well now you’re just giving me what I want,” you said. You knew you were pushing it, perhaps annoying him too much. But you got such a rush out of it that you didn’t care. You loved seeing him come undone and angry because he couldn’t control everyone and everything.

He ignored your comment, but you could tell his silence was spent trying to figure out how to punish you. You were wet just thinking of how mean he would be after you riled him up like this. You wanted him to use you, degrade you, smack you.

He, of course, knew this. “W-w-what am I supposed to do with a disobedient little whore like you? Fuck you and cum in all your holes until you don’t know your own fucking name? Or maybe, I could call some other Ricks, some less  _patient_ Ricks, and let them teach you a lesson while I ignore you and do my work? Tie you up w-with a vibrator strapped to your clit while I work so I can hear your pathetic moans?”

You couldn’t help letting out desperate noises as he nonchalantly listed off the things he would do to you as sweet, sweet punishment. “I’m like a god, I could be anywhere, doing anything, with anyone. Instead, I let you hang around me, I let you have my cock, and what do I get for it? An ungrateful slut giving me lip, a-a-and not lip like your lips around my dick. Where they belong.”

You licked your lips and swallowed, looking down as your imagination went wild. The brief break in eye contact was a mistake, and earned you a hard slap from the man above you. “A-and then you have the  _audacity_  to turn away from me? When you’ve been fighting tooth and nail for my attention?” He undid his pants and pulled out his cock, rubbing it against your clothed crotch. You moaned at the friction and moved your shorts and underwear to the side. “Fuck, you’re wet. Y-y-you really get off on being a pain in my ass, huh?” He rubbed his cock against the moisture at your entrance teasingly before slamming it all in at once.

You cried out. It was too much, too fast, and he had removed it almost as soon as he’d put it in. You whimpered at the empty feeling. He smirked, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling your head back. “O-oh? You don’t like it when I tease you? When I act like a dick?” You glared at him, which earned you another slap from him and him another moan from you.

He pushed his cock back inside of you, thrusting into you in shallow, short strokes. He only gave you a little bit of what you wanted; enough to stretch you out a little, but not deep enough to satisfy. Your moans were frustrated, drawn out little noises, your eyes looking pleadingly up at Rick. He only smirked in response. “Y-you want something,  _dear_?” he asked with mock politeness. “Use your words. I-I-I’m the smartest man in any universe but I can’t read minds.” He paused and muttered, “Yet.” You, as prideful as you were, continued to let him fuck you like that for a bit. He looked down on you, his face smug and satisfied. He looked content to keep teasing you like this. Now that he had you a wriggling mess below him, he was in control again and his air of nonchalance turned you on.

“I-I want you to fuck me. Please Rick. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

He grinned and thrust his full length into you once more, forcing a throaty moan out of you. Leaned over you while you sat on the counter, his cock went deeper inside of you than usual. The head of his cock hit that sensitive spot deep inside of you and you felt a mix of dull pain and vivid pleasure. You let out a deep moan and pulled him closer to you, grabbing fistfuls of his labcoat. His unibrow formed an angry ‘v’ as he wrapped a hand around your throat. “I didn’t say you could touch me, slut.”

His thrusts slowed down, but he maintained their depth. You moaned in spite of it and, because of your restricted airways, a hoarse sound came out that Rick praised. It was delicious torture. When your panting sounded too strained, he released your throat and pulled out of you. You were about to ask why but he pulled you to your knees on the kitchen floor, jerking himself off with his other hand. You looked up at him, mouth open and lidded eyes meeting his. He was biting his lip, his face tense. He grabbed your hair, forcing your head back as he came all over your face. “ _Fffffuck_.” You caught some of the bitter substance in your mouth, the rest getting all over your face and hair.

“Mmm, you’re a bad girl but you’re still a good cumslut.” You twitched in arousal at his praise, but there was nothing to twitch around. You wanted more of his cock, badly. You licked up the cum you could reach and wiped the rest off with a paper towel he graciously allowed you to have. “Now, you better let me do my work. I-I-I fucked you, but I’m not gonna let you cum for a week after all your insolence.” You whined and he smirked, walking off with the box of wafer cookies in hand.


	4. sfw- Rick comforts trans reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling super down this pride month cause transphobia will do that to you so! here's some self-indulgent shit

Rick walked into your living room, all decked out in pink, yellow, and blue, a huge grin on his face. “It’s Pride Month biiiiiiiiiitch!” His smile fell a little when his proclamation was met with silence. He raised half of his unibrow at you, as if to ask why you weren’t returning his excited screaming.

“Sorry Rick I just…” you trailed off and sighed. “I’m just exhausted.” You mustered a particularly pathetic attempt at a smile.

Rick frowned and plopped down next to you on the couch wordlessly. “You uh,” he took a swig from his flask, which you noted had a cute trans flag cozy around it, “You wanna talk?” He wasn’t good at dealing with others’ emotions, but it was nice to see him make an effort.

You tensed your jaw and sat in silence for a bit. You refused to make eye contact with him, or anyone, when talking about your feelings, so you focused your gaze on the blank tv screen in front of you. “I’m just so… so fucking tired of it. All the transphobic bullshit. Even from some gay people, in our own community, from everyone! I just… I don’t know who it’s safe to come out to. I…”

You were crying a little, you couldn’t help it. But you stopped talking so Rick wouldn’t hear your voice crack. Why were you even complaining to him? He had dealt with the same shit, but he was tough and confident and you weren’t. That wasn’t his problem.

You were surprised to feel one of his bony hands rubbing your shoulder and the other wiping tears off your face. You finally looked up at him, despite your pathetic appearance.

“H-hey kid I, uh, I haven’t always had such thick skin. I get it. But, you’re whatever gender you say you are. I-It’s fucking science. People using— fucking going on about biological sex, a-as if it’s the same thing as gender, as if either one is binary or something. Fucking bullshit. I’m the smartest man in any universe. I-if anyone gives you shit about your gender, point them in my direction, babe.”

You were still crying, but some of those tears were out of appreciation now. “Thanks Rick. You’re…” You paused. You had pushed it with the amount of comfort he’d given you today. You didn’t wanna ruin it with any mushy sweet stuff.

“You really are the smartest man in any universe.”

He chuckled and gave your hip a little squeeze before getting up. “L-lemme know when you’re ready to go. I want, like, five of those cocksicles.”


	5. Mischief at family game night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearly based on very lively and frustrating games of the resistance with friends. Rick gets handsy at family game night, the bastard

You were excited for family game night at the Smith-Sanchez household. Even Summer joined in for family game nights, and they usually played the boring stuff. But not tonight. You loved spending time with Rick and his family, but if you had to play Downbeat for one more week, you were going to lose it. You suggested a game that they had never played before which involved concealed identities and deception. It sounded like just the kind of thing they would enjoy, probably get way too into, and fight about. But, really, who among us doesn’t do that?

You arrive at their house Friday night with the game tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. Beth answers the door and gives you a hug, “Come in, come in!” She’s so sweet, you make a mental note to get her some flowers or horse hooves or something for hosting you so often. You follow her into the kitchen, making a detour for the living room first to place the game down on the coffee table. Beth stirs whatever it is in the pot before her. It smells good, like garlic and basil. “What do you have planned for us tonight? The kids sounded excited that we weren’t playing Downbeat,” she says to you with a smile. “Can’t imagine why, though. I love that game.” You chuckle, making no comment on Beth’s impressively poor choice in board games. “We’ll be playing a game where some of us are spies and the others have to figure out who it is basically! It’ll be fun, and full of deceit and trickery!” You punctuate the sentence with a dramatic flourish of your hands. Beth laughs and goes back to cooking.

“Sounds boooo-eaugh-ring.” You turn around to see Rick leaning on the doorway, flask in hand. He tends to get a little drunker than usual for family game night, but could you really blame him? Rick isn’t good at the whole family bonding thing, and the Smith’s choice of games doesn’t exactly help. Beth turns away from the stove again, greeting her father. “Come on dad, it’ll be fun!” Rick returns his daughter’s smile. You think it’s sweet that he is softer around her. That, and the fact that he even participates in family game night at all, is proof to you that he does care about his family, despite his attempts to deny it.

You chat with Beth and, whenever he deigns to give you his attention, Rick. When Beth finishes cooking, she beckons for the rest of the family and you all sit down to eat. You engage in pleasantries with Morty and Summer, asking them about school and adventures and whatnot. You avoid talking to Jerry. You can put up with him, but you think he and Beth are incompatible. You had given her the same advice you gave most women you knew: dump him. Rick stays mostly silent, but at least he’s sipping on the wine Beth had set out instead of whatever is in his flask. His mood is as dour as before, but he somehow still has the lustful energy to squeeze your thigh under the table. You squirm and catch the hint of a smirk on his face.

Once dinner is done, you all go to the living room. You take your seat on the ground by the coffee table, and Rick sits next to you. “Y'know you can sit on the couch, right? I don’t know that your gangly limbs and old bones will do well on the floor.” Rick rolls his eyes. “Y-y-y'know, I bet when you get to be my age, you’ll have– you’ll be a lot less limber than I am.” You shrug. “Probably cause you have to keep up with young things like me,” you whispered. Rick rewards you with a short laugh. “I’ll do more than keep up with you, baby.” He pulls you so that your hip touches his and runs his hand up and down across your back. You imagine the things the both of you wanted him to be doing with those hands and shivered. You’re ashamed of how easily he can get you riled up, but in your defense, he has been doing this for longer than you have been alive.

The rest of the family trickles in as you take the cards and game pieces out of the box. “S-s-so what is this game? Y-y-you said it had spies?” Morty leans over the table, eyes locked on the game setup. “Yeah, at the beginning of the game everyone will be given a card. Two of us will be spies, the rest of us won’t. The spies will know who the other spy is, but it’s everyone else’s goal to figure out who the spies are.” You begin passing out cards delineating each person’s identity, as well as voting cards. “So, who do we want to elect as the mission leader for this first one?” Everyone stares blankly. Rick burps. “I’ll explain. The mission leader sends people on missions and everyone else has to agree on their choice.” Still, nothing. “Alright, I’m mission leader. We’re gonna learn by doing. Look at the card I just handed out, but don’t show anyone!” Jerry starts to complain that the game is too complicated, but he is quickly and collectively shushed.

“Everybody, close your eyes.” You close your eyes as well. Rick takes advantage of this and playfully ghosts his fingers over your inner thigh. You cough to cover any vocal betrayals of surprise and plant your hands firmly on the floor to ground yourself. “Now, the two spies, open your eyes.”

Your eyes remain closed, since you didn’t get a spy card, and you wait a few seconds. “Eyes closed again.” A few more seconds of waiting, and one of Rick’s hands is now caressing your waist, the other one running over the thin fabric of your shirt to stimulate your nipples. You feel flushed and hope no one else notices the red in your cheeks or the heightened pitch ofyour voice. You’re almost certain the bastard has his eyes open to watch the show he’s putting on. You give him a light kick under the coffee table. Barely audible, he chuckles. “Eyes open.”

You open your eyes and explain the rules. “So, as leader, I’ll choose the people to go on the first mission.” You glance around the room, trying to read everyone’s expressions. You can’t tell if Morty is a spy or if his apparent nervousness is just a product of his general mood. Summer seems detached as ever. Jerry is hopelessly confused. Beth and Rick share a similar neutral expression, you note. Maybe it’s genetics, or maybe they’re both spies. You’ll find out. “I’d like to send myself and Beth. Before I put this up to a vote, what do you all think?” Summer gives her mother some serious sideye. “I dunno, Mom seems a little suspicious.” Beth raises an eyebrow and prepares to offer a rebuttal before Morty chimes in. “Y-yeah, and Rick’s face is, it’s similar to when he’s actually playing poker with aliens and stuff. Like, like he has an actual set face for poker, a-and other deceptive games.” You look over Rick again, his jaw tense as if his teeth are clenched behind his calm facade. “I-I-I don’t think you even know how to play poker, o-or this game, Morty.” You raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Sounds like deflection to me.” Morty eagerly nods and Summer gives a noncommittal “mhmm.”

You leaned in toward Summer and Morty. “So, now that they’re acting suspicious, we have two options: we could send one of us on the mission, and ideally get a pass. Or, we could intentionally send one of the people we think is guilty and see if the mission comes back as fail to confirm our suspicion. Which one do you wanna do?” Summer puts down her phone for a second and looks at her mother, then her grandfather. “I say we send neither of them if we’re suspicious. They’ll probably, like, pass the mission no matter what this round. Might as well just pick someone else and keep that information in mind.” You nodded. “Alright then. I’m going to send me and Summer. Time to vote!” Everyone places down their voting cards. A simultaneous yes. A smooth first round. “Summer, you and I will both put down our tokens, either pass or fail mission, and then they’ll be shuffled and read aloud. If even one fail appears, the whole mission is shot.” She nods and you both place your tokens face down. Once shuffled, you take a look. Two passes. Summer still isn’t clear of suspicion for you, but at least the first mission passed.

“Okay, Rick, it’s your turn to be mission leader now! You’ll choose three people for this one.” Rick grunts and looks around the table. “S-s-since you all are suspicious of me…” he pauses, running his hand through his hair. You love it when he does that. “I’ll choose Jerry, Beth, and Morty. A-a-and I’m cold, I’m getting a blanket.” He sets down the affirmative vote token before he rises to his impressive height and leaves the room. You shake your head. “A grumpy old man indeed,” you mutter.

Everyone set down their votes, all positive. “Alright, let’s see if the mission passes or fails.” You look over their faces as they place their tokens down. Summer shuffles them and then reads the results. “Pass, pass, fail.” She sets the token back down on the table and narrows her eyes, grinning. “So one of you is a spy!” Beth rolls her eyes. “You guys have been suspicious of me, but these two have been awfully quiet.” Jerry’s expression is indignant as he quarrels with his wife: “Of course you’d blame me!” Morty is quick to defend himself, “I-I-I couldn’t be the spy, I’m not even, I don’t really know how to lie that well!” His argument is the most convincing. You temple your fingers and grin. “The seed of deception is planted, it’s gonna be trickery and bickering from here on out!” Rick returns at the peak of the chaos and raises half of his unibrow at you. You shrug back at him, a “this isn’t my fault” kind of gesture. He sits down next to you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. You lick your lips and glance at him briefly. It’s pretty clear at this point what he’s doing. “So, ah, w-what happened while I was gone?” A cacophony of voices attempt to answer his question. When Rick is sure the family is too focused on arguing with each other to notice, he grabs your hip and forcefully slides you closer to him. You turn to him, fully aware of what he is trying to do, call him a dirty bastard. He smirks and replies, “Sweetie, my uh, old man ears, they can’t hear you.” He is really playing on that old man thing from earlier. You mouth the words, “don’t you dare.” He leans in to whisper in your ear, “I-I-I don’t read lips, baby.” You start to blush, but the moment is quickly interrupted by Morty trying to deflect the blame off of himself. “A-A-Are you guys whispering? Is there, like, a conspiracy going on here?” Everyone turns their attention to the two of you. You stumble over your words, Rick had flustered you with his proximity and his low, gravelly voice in your ear. Rick, however, remains composed. “And so what if we are? It’s clear several of you aren’t trustworthy.” Flawlessly, Rick’s inflammatory words begin another round of arguing. He turns his face back to you with a sly grin. You hate to admit how attractive he is when he’s cunning and calculated. His fingers slip into your pants and he strokes the fabric of your underwear. Your hand looks for purchase and finds it on his thigh, which you dig your nails into to prevent any sounds from escaping your mouth. He loves to tease you, but he’s not the only one with that ability. Once you’ve gathered the composure to do so, you trace the line of his cock through his pants. It’s already pretty hard, your lazy strokes stoking the fire. You two can only keep up your mutual teasing for awhile before you are again interrupted.

“Aha! It doesn’t matter because I’m the mission leader now! And I’m going to send our esteemed guest and our – uh, our…” Jerry stops for a moment to think of something clever. You happily provide an answer, both to annoy Rick and maybe even make a distraction so that Rick’s hands can return to their place on your body. “Obscene pest? You just need something with two syllables and then another word that rhymes with pest if you want that parallelism.” Jerry’s eyes glint as a triumphant grin lights up his features. “Haha! Yes, you obscene pest!” Rick side-eyes you viciously and the rest of the family gets into an argument with Jerry about what he can and can’t say about their father/grandfather.

Rick lowers his voice, hand snaking over to that spot which aches with need. “Y-Y-You think that’s cute, honey? Think it’s clever?” He picks up the pace of the hand stroking your clit and you try your hardest to stifle a moan. “It wasn’t. You’re a stupid little bitch who needs to learn your place. You know I’m, I’m basically a god, right?” You delight in your degradation and revel in his roughness. You unzip his pants and now the only thing between your hand and his cock is his underwear. You run your finger over the tip, pleased to find all your teasing from earlier had left a spot of precum on his underwear. You take your hand out from under the blanket and play with the stringy substance before licking it off your finger. Rick watches the whole thing, his face more flushed than normal. Once your hand is below the blanket again, he grabs your wrist and puts in on his cock. You rub him through his underwear just as he does to you, the both of you enjoying this secret pleasure. Your voice is breathy, barely a whisper. “I want you so bad. I need your cock to stretch me out. I need to be filled.” Your words and the desperate voice you use is too much for him and, after quickly pulling his hand out of your pants, he yanks the two of you up.

“Uh, sorry guys. This arguing it's— is too much. You ne-eaugh-ed family counseling. We’re going to Blitz and Chips so, uh. You guys figure that out.” Their faces are a mixture of anger and confusion as Rick portals the two of you away.


	6. sfw- disney princesses

“Wait— is that… are you?”

Rick is sprawled out on the couch, sipping on straight vodka in a crystal wine glass.

“What? I like to feel, uh, fancy sometimes.” He punctuates the sentence with a burp in a beautiful display of irony.

You shake your head and plop down next to him, staring at him in disbelief while his gaze remains firmly on the television. “I’m not talking about the drink, dumbass. I didn’t take you for someone into Disney movies.”

Rick finally breaks his attention on the tv to give you an indignant look. “Y-y-you’re criticizing me?”

You laugh. Rick never fails to get defensive about traits that he can’t attribute to his intelligence. “I’m not criticizing you, just… surprised.” He grunts and turns the tv up louder. The two of you watch the movie together, and you’re delighted to see Rick unabashedly sing along to every word of the songs with his gruff but not altogether unpleasant voice. If he weren’t such an unromantic person, you might actually fall for him.


	7. Things that cost too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the premise here is if Miami rick had a wife who he later divorces, their dynamic would probably be a little like this!

The man sitting across the table from you is chewing loudly and staring you down. “Y-y'know what your problem is, sweetie?” The venom in the last word stings a little, but you stay cold, raising an eyebrow to say “go on” without actually talking to the hateful creature before you. Perhaps he’s a demon, you muse. He waves his fork around in a circle while he finishes chewing. You snicker, he glares. Same old dance.

“Y-y-you always want this, this expensive shit here?” He gestures to your meal, nearly untouched on the plate before you. An act of defiance.

“It costs too much for you to be a brat all the goddamn time. Don’t you– d-don’t even think I’ll keep paying for your pretty little toys a-a-and your lacy things, if you don’t start behaving. If divorce lawyers didn’t cost so much, o-or if you didn’t get my dick so hard…”

You smirk, still silent. These games are fun for you and, although he sounds mad as hell, you know he’s thrilled to have someone to discipline. He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. You nudge his leg with a heeled foot and motion your head towards your lap. Not so surreptitiously, he looks under the table and returns to his impressive height with a lascivious grin. “Ah, have those been off all night?”

You nod, he laughs. His long fingers wave in the air to flag down our waitress, who is glad to give the man his bill and hopes he tips as well as he dresses. For all Miami’s faults, for all the evil he’s done to get the riches he has, he tips well. It’s the little things that make you think, maybe he’s not so bad after all. But he is. And that’s why you can’t stay away.

The two of you get up, and he immediately snakes a hand down to cup your ass. His fingers gloss over where the fabric of your underwear would be and he laughs, hungry and animalistic. “Guess you’re worth all the expenses, huh?”


	8. You and Rick at a party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some cool and fun facefucking

You are sitting on a stranger’s couch with an unappetizing concoction of coke and cheap vodka in hand. It’s more vodka than coke, but as long as it gets you drunk faster, you don’t mind. The house is crowded and unfamiliar, filled with strangers laughing and yelling and drinking. It wasn’t often you went to big parties like this, but you needed a break from responsibilities and, after a few shots of liquid courage, agreed that you would go with your friend. He, being far more social than you, had wandered off to meet new people early in the night. You had made a few rounds too, but eventually settled on sitting on the couch and conversing with whomever was around at the moment.

You compliment the girl sitting next to you on her tattoos and the two of you chat for awhile. It’s hard to hear her, and you both have to shout above the din of the party, but you laugh and smile and exchange numbers before she gets up to get another drink. She’s sweet and engaging, and in your drunken state you reflect on how wonderful it is to socialize with people so effortlessly, how incredibly kind people can be, and how funny (sad?) it is that, despite how emotional you are right now, you probably won’t remember having this conversation tomorrow. Your drunken reverie is cut short by a loud, gravelly voice.

“What’s uu-EAUGH-uuup sluts!”

A tall older man plops down on the couch next to you in the newly emptied spot where your tattooed friend sat seconds before. He grins at you with yellow teeth and a drool (vomit?) covered chin. His dark eyes give you a quick once-over before he turns to the others and talks loudly about aliens and spaceships for some reason. He must be much drunker than you are. The others laugh and respond in kind, recounting their own experiences with aliens and spaceships. You must be much drunker than you think you are.

Confused, you try to listen to their talk of distant planets and intergalactic governing bodies, but you can’t take your eyes off the man next to you. He returns your gaze occasionally while sipping from his flask, an amused and curious look in his eyes. He rests his arms along the back of the couch, his dangling fingers brushing your shoulder. You try to quell the warmth between your legs as you take note of his features: the alluring roughness of his voice, how long and slender his fingers are, the way he moves as if he is always confident, always certain.

The others get up to get a drink, which you know means they will be milling around the crowded house for several minutes before coming back, or even forgetting their intent to return. You take generous sips of your drink, unsure of how to speak to the man with the messy blue hair. You chance a glance at him to find him already staring at you. He raises half of his unibrow and smirks. Can he tell you’re… interested? You smile back coquettishly, and something in the back of your mind tells you that you shouldn’t flirt with a man more than twice your age who loves to talk about otherworldly nonsense.

“I heard you talkin’ about aliens and shit. That’s pretty cool.” Silence. He looks like an animal playing with its prey before eating it. You swallow and continue, “Uh, what’s your name anyway, uh, sir?” Fuck. Sir? You’re at a goddamn party not a customer service job. He laughs at the title, sliding his hand down to your hip and pulling you closer until your thigh is touching his. He smells like cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes. You lick your lips; he notices.

“The name’s Rick Sanchez. This is my place, s-s-sugartits. Well, it’s my daughter’s place technically, but… Semantics.”

“Oh, so are you the host of this party?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Well, thank you, sir.” Stop calling him sir. Another laugh.

“Do you have a thing for– an authority kink or something, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I mean I do, but that was an accident.”

“Honest. I like that.” He takes another swig from his flask. “W-w-what else are you into?”

The question catches you off guard, but you respond to his banter. “I already told you one, why don’t you tell me, Mr. Sanchez?”

He’s clearly pleased with the title. The hand on your hip slides down to rub your thigh and his other hand runs through his messy hair.

“Hmm. Well, I like sexy young things like you who have some perverted desire to get fucked by an old man.” He’s clearly amused with the discomfort he’s caused you. You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off with a squeeze of your thigh.

“Y-you could easily fuck anyone at this party, but you want these swangly old balls? That’s pretty nasty, babe.”

The degradation feels delightful, but you can’t let him make a mess of you so quickly. You look down to notice his pants straining to hold in his erection. He grins, expecting you to get flustered and melt in his hands, but instead you start to palm the bulge in his pants. He lets out a soft groan, surprised.

“What is it, Mr. Sanchez? Are you really going to make a sound like that when I’ve just barely touched you?” You smile, mocking. “I’m surprised you can even get it up at this age.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “You’re a real brat, thinking you can talk back to me. I think I oughtta teach you a lesson, hm?”

Before you can respond, he grabs you above the elbow and walks you down a less crowded hallway, taking you into an empty bathroom. He locks the door, and you only now notice just how much taller he is.

“On your knees, slut.”

By the time you’re on your knees, he already has his thick cock hanging out from his unzipped pants. You take the head of it into your mouth, earning a groan of pleasure from Rick. You try to go deeper, but find that the sheer size of it takes some getting used to. But Rick is not a patient man.

“W-w-what, is it too big for you, honey?” His voice drips with disdain and mock concern. “Here, I’ll help you out.”

He puts both hands in your hair and starts facefucking you. Your eyes tear up at the pressure that’s being put on your throat, resisting the urge to gag. Your underwear becomes embarrassingly slicker and you whine at the feeling of being used. Your pathetic noises only goad him on. He takes his cock out of your mouth and admires the saliva that comes with it.

He tangles one hand in your hair again, yanking your head up to look at him. “Fuck, you look so good. You took my cock so good, just like I knew you would.” He rubs his cock against your cheek, across your lips, mocking. “You’re mine now, and I can use you however I want. Is that what you wanted to hear? Y-y-you want to be some gross old pervert’s fucktoy?” You stifle a moan and look down at the floor to come up with some way to save face. He’s not happy about it.

He tilts your chin up, using his thumb to hold your jaw open as he slides himself back into your mouth. “Don’t– don’t you even think about acting like you don’t enjoy this. I saw the way your thighs– ahhh, fuck– the way they squirmed when I barely touched your shoulder earlier. I bet you got a touch-starved, sensitive little cunt too.” You moan and whine around his cock, which encourages him to go faster, harder.

“God you’re so fuckin’ depraved. I’m gonna cum a-all over that pretty little face of yours. And you better keep your mouth open and swallow what I give you.”

He pulls out of your mouth and quickly strokes himself to orgasm, pulling your hair and shooting thick cum all over your face. He looks pleased at his handiwork, pressing his thumb down on your tongue to inspect how his cum looks in your mouth. “Good. Now swallow.”

You close your mouth and, against your better judgement and your usual habits, spit it out. “Oops,” you sayHis eyebrow forms a sharp v and you see a flash of anger in his features before his lips revert to the usual smirk. He tucks his cock back into his pants and tosses a towel your way. “Stupid little slut can’t even follow directions.” He unlocks the bathroom door to exit, but not before turning his head to eye you with that lascivious look.

“But… if you can walk around the party for another hour or so without underwear on, I’ll consider fucking that wet pussy. Th-think you can do that for me, babe?”


	9. Rick is your asshole neighbor

The neighbors across the street are a weird bunch. A clearly dysfunctional couple, their two kids who have been scarred by the constant bickering and childishness of their parents, and to top it off, an alcoholic grandfather who flies a spaceship to the liquor store. You don’t know any of this firsthand, of course. Just rumors, and what you had seen of them at neighborhood cookouts. Standing on your porch so that the cold winter air might wake you, you gaze across the street in curiosity.

The garage door is open, as usual, and you can see Rick Sanchez working on some device you couldn’t begin to comprehend. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, intently focused on the task at hand. You absentmindedly watch while sipping some hot chocolate. It’s way too cold outside, but you can’t stop watching the man tinker with god knows what. After a while, he stops what he’s doing, and turns to face you.“Like what you see?” He shouts from across the street. It looks like he’s grabbing his crotch, but you can’t be sure. Ah, he’s one of those old men. Some self-assured lecherous asshole. Although, you couldnt entirely blame him. You had been staring, but who could resist staring at inventions beyond their imagination?

You shout back, “Just curious. What the fuck are you up to in there?” A considerable pause before he responds with a wave of his hand, a “come here.” You happily oblige. He’s back at his workbench, hunched over something metal with flickering lights. Very sci-fi. You want to maintain a polite distance, especially since the man has said next to nothing to you. “Sooo. You gonna show me something?” It occurs to you that he might not even know your name.

He turns around briefly to look you over, then continues working. “Listen, sweetie, y-y-you’re only allowed in here for a minute to sate your, uh, curiosity.” You frown, disappointed but not surprised that you weren’t going to get the exciting tour of the Smith-Sanchez garage you wanted. You watch him anyway, slowly inching closer until he turns around in exasperation. Before he can scold you, he stares at your nipples poking through your shirt. “Cold, huh? I can, ah, warm you up if you really want.” A wink and a grin. You blush. He’s aware that you’re easily flustered at this point, and continues to add fuel to the flames. He turns around to continue his work, letting you get closer this time. He smells good, and you realize with mild disgust that you might actually be attracted to him.

“Your minute’s up, babe. And give me some goddamn space unless you wanna hop on this dick, yeah?” You knew Rick had a reputation for being an asshole, but his boldness surprised you. You could play his game. “I’m pretty sure I’d give you a heart attack if I got on your dick,” you say with a smirk. He laughs. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t– won’t reduce you to a pathetic puddle of moans.” Your heart beats faster and his words affect you far more than they should. You realize there’s nothing you can say without him replying with something even dirtier. You try anyway.

You move closer to him, inciting a half raised unibrow and a satisfied laugh on his part as you straddle his lap. You’re surprised to feel he’s already sporting a hard on. You indulge him a bit and grind against him, eliciting a groan and an encouraging squeeze of your hips. “Mmmm that’s it baby, I knew you wanted this grandpa dick.” You smile and lean into his ear, tits pressed up against his chest, whispering, “Never in a million years, Sanchez.”

You pull your face away, ready to get up and leave him horny and unsatisfied. Before you can manage, his slender fingers leave their place at your hips, one hand on the small of your back to pull you closer, and his other hand tilting your chin up to look at him directly. He’s barely touched you but you want more. You have to remind yourself that if you fuck him right here, he wins. His voice is low, almost a growl, “Go ahead and leave, but I know you’ll come crawling back, a-a-and this time I’ll make you beg for it.”

You shiver and pretend it’s from the cold air. You stand back up, his hands sliding down from your back and conveniently brushing the curve of your ass. You’re unsure of how to get the last word. You decide it’s best not to speak, but instead to walk off with a sway of your hips. “I’m gonna have fun getting off to that tonight!” The man’s audacious alright, shouting that where other neighbors and his family could hear. You continue walking home, begrudgingly accepting that you’re probably going to get off to it too.


End file.
